The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1887-08-12
A MOTHERS VISION.

On, dear, SAD tldy Mrs. JeWett,
"there's Willie in the parlor again with his
muddy boots, and Jenny has fingered the
woodwork of the piano all over, l see, that
l polished so nicely only yesterday. know
the door of the spare room has been left
open, too, for the muslin curtains are
pulled all away, where pussy must have
frolicked in the folds; and, dear, there's
Jack this minute with his feet in that stuff
ed chairl"
"Come, come, mother, | wouldn't fret, :"
said easy Mr.. Jewett: 'the children must
put their feet somewhere, and | suppose
kittens will be kittens and fly about where
they can find the most fun"
ooh, yes" rejoined Mrs. Jewett, cts
very easy for you, father, to think children
and cats can go where they like and do
what they please. I'm not fretting, but
it's hard work to sweep and polish, and do
clear-starching; and men never did know
and never will know anything about the
work of a h~ousekeeper and a mother"
So saying, Mrs. Jewett, with her fair,
pretty face all in wrinkles, went out of the
room with a worried:
"Oh, dear!!''
And her husband looked after her with
a compassionate.
"Poor mother"
Naturally Mrs. Jewctt was Of a happy
disposition, but like many other fond,
faithful mothers, she was unconsciously
falling into a habit of worrying over the
inevitable faults and thoughtlessness of her
children.
She was a scrupulously neat housekeeper
and as her things had not come as easily
as they do to many others, they acquired
all the more valne and Importance in her
eye, once they came into her possession.
But the usual restlessness of boys and
girls, and even poor capering kitty herself,
was fast developing in Mrs. Jewett that
irritating fretfulness and impotence which
kills true happiness and comfort in many a
home, and where the mothers real object
is to make all as comfortable and happy as
possible.
In vain Mr.. Jewett hintcd that things
were always going wrong, somehow, and
that there was no end of pcevishness and
fault-finding taking root in his family.
At such times Mrs. Jewett would shed
tears and declare no one could do more
thar spend all their time and energies for
the welfare of their family, as she did.
One morning the curtains were discover
ed to have been rolled up all to ole side,
while the summer sunshine was flooding,
with its wholesome light, the bright pat
tern of the new brussels carpet. Jennie
and Carrie had left their school books
scattered around on the chairs, and Jacks
Muddy boots stood in the middle of the
floor.
Mrs, Jewett burst into a TRADE OF dis
pleasure, but the children were out of
hearing, so instead of judiciously and pa
tiently calling them in and obliging them
to put things in their places, she begun
putting things to rights herself, allowing
Mr.. Jewett, as frequently happened, to
bear the brunt of her displeasure, and for
once his good nature gave way and he said,
pettishly:
81 declare, wife, it is a thousand pities
there are any children here to bother you
| So"
Mrs. Jewett made no reply, but going to
her room she sat down for a moment to
consider whether or not her husband
meant what he had just said.
But by degrees the room faded from her
vision, the house became quiet-terribly
quiet-the sunlight died out, and shade
and stiffness reigned supreme.
There were footsteps heard, but hushed,
creeping, awed.
All of active life had ceased; even the
kitty had taken herself off, and was no
where to be seen.
Mrs. Jewett reused herself and went
from kitchen to dining-room, from dining
room to parlor. The invariable order was
oppressive.
evenness; not the finest line of sunlight
co1ld pierce through crack or crevice of
the nicely adjusted shutters.
Every book was in its place; the chairs
as guiltless of dust as if just cleaned, and
the unblurred polish of the piano reflected
each u~ndisturbed ornament and object in
it's vicinity.
But the children! Oh, the children!
A great appalling throb of apprehension
and whitening pain shot unrepressed
| through the mothers heart at the mention
| of their lame.
Where was winsome-no longer mis-
| chievous, but winsome-Willie?
Where, pray, were sportive Carrie and
lively Jennie? Where, too, bounding, low
ing little Jack? eyes" she said, vaguely
peering about in the sunless gloom,
''whcre are my precious children"
She left the dining-room and parlor and
| went from one child's chamber to another
everything in that same depressing or
! der, even their little beds were unruflied,
each smooth pillow looked as if impressed
by a sunny head for--oh. SO long.
And, ali, misery! What was that in
| Willie's room in the porcelain vase?
Some white flowers tied with white
satin ribbon; and this Misunderstanding EN-